


Ten

by mage_girl



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of torture, Recovery, Shuri is wonderful, Trigger words, mention of brainwashing, mention of mind wipes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mage_girl/pseuds/mage_girl
Summary: There are ten words that will summon the Winter soldier despite Bucky Barne's best efforts.And there is a way to give Bucky back those words that meant home, Steve, Howlies, love, happiness, and contentment.Shuri has the key, Bucky has the determination....This is their journey to give Bucky back his mind.





	Ten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> All hail to my wonderful beta, LIbrariandrew for his meticulous work. Any grammar errors are mine, as usual.
> 
> Thank you SO SO much for your patience, Kali! I enjoyed all your prompts and information and our chats. I really hope you like your story and thank you so so much for bidding... and for supporting this event. It's so appreciated! Enjoy! <3

Shuri snuck glances at the quiet man sitting opposite her. She had explained the procedure to him, had laid out what may or may not happen, had reassured him of their final shared goals. He listened intently, his head cocked to one side, his lips pressed together as he concentrated on her words. She liked that he didn’t assume anything, that he asked questions, that he paid attention to what she was saying. Her brother would find much in common with this one.

‘When do we start?’ asked Bucky. He smoothed out the fabric of his shirt and clasped his right knee.

‘Tomorrow. I understand your Captain Rogers would like to say goodbye to you before we begin,’ said Shuri. She regarded him openly, then, her bright dark eyes meeting his blue ones. 

‘Do you have a question?’ asked Bucky, a wry smile at the corner of his mouth.

‘It would be inappropriate of me to ask,’ responded Shuri. She grinned at Bucky though and Bucky couldn’t help but openly smile back.

‘Is it because it’s curiosity speaking or because you want to know how I tick from a medical point of view?’ asked Bucky.

‘You are clever for a white man,’ allowed Shuri. ‘Knowing how you tick will help me best navigate your mind. Separating yourself from those trigger words without hurting you is my goal. I have the technology to do so but I also want it to be as least traumatic as possible.’

‘I’m sure after HYDRA, you’re going to feel like an angel’s kiss,’ remarked Bucky. 

Shuri shivered. ‘That isn’t much of a bar to cross over. No, the more familiar I am with you, the better it will be and I won’t hurt you accidentally. As they say, ‘do no harm’ and I intend to honour that.’

‘So… your question?’ asked Bucky, gesturing encouragingly.

Shuri sighed and then gathered herself together, drawing upon every inch of the princess of Wakanda that she was. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but you and Captain Rogers… you are very close, no?’

‘We are,’ said Bucky with a slight smile.

Shuri gave him the stink eye and then relented. ‘Were you a couple?’

Bucky’s smile widened. ‘You’re gonna be in my head, doc. You’ll find the answers there.’

‘I don’t pry into things that aren’t my concern,’ reminded Shuri.  
‘I know. Let’s put it this way. When you’re disabling those triggers, you’ll find other things. Memories that I’ve recovered somewhat. If you’d like an answer to that question, follow it when you’re re-doing my neural pathways. You’ll see,’ said Bucky.

‘I might get more than I bargained for,’ muttered Shuri, crossing her arms and looking every bit the teenage girl she was.

‘Oh, sweetheart. It’s guaranteed if it’s anything to do with Steve ‘I can do anything’ Rogers, you’re always gonna get more than you bargained for,’ laughed Bucky.

It was easy, Bucky thought, when he was in control, when he could make decisions about his body and his mind. He wanted those triggers gone. Ten words that brought out the side of him he’d done his best to wrestle into submission. And the worst of it, the very worst of it was that these ten words reminded him of Steve. 

Shuri’s face changed from interest to fury when Bucky told her. ‘I can separate your memories from those triggers. You shouldn’t have to have your experiences with Steve erased. If you trust me, Bucky…. I’ll leave you with only the good.’

Bucky gazed at this young woman, taking in her determined stance, her firm mouth and the warmth in her dark eyes. ‘I trust you,’ he said, softly.

Shuri rewarded him with a wide smile. ‘Good. Thank you for that. It means a lot to me. I won’t let you down.’

‘I know you won’t. You just have to convince Rogers of that,’ said Bucky, smiling wryly.

‘That’s the hardest part of all of this?’ teased Shuri.

‘It always has been. That mook hasn’t backed down from anything since we were kids. He’s gonna distrust you because he doesn’t forgive himself for what happened to me,’ explained Bucky.

Shuri nodded. ‘Guilt is a strong motivator.’

‘Survivor’s guilt is the strongest.’ added Bucky.

**

Steve listened while Shuri and Bucky took turns explaining what was going to happen during Bucky’s time in cryostasis. 

‘I’ll be me without worrying about killing anyone I care about… no one will control me but me,’ said Bucky.

‘It won’t hurt?’ asked Steve, turning to Shuri.

‘It won’t hurt at all. Bucky will be asleep and dreaming… I’ll be carefully combing through his mind, removing the trigger word’s association with Hydra. What is left is Bucky’s memories and only his memories. The words won’t affect him that way anymore,’ answered Shuri.

‘That’s incredible,’ breathed Steve. ‘It won’t hurt him going into it, either?’

‘No,’ said Shuri. ‘He’ll simply go to sleep. No pain. No discomfort. It feels like taking a nap.’

Steve shuddered as he blew out his breath sharply. ‘OK. Can I be there?’

Shuri turned to Bucky who smiled reassuringly. ‘Sure, although it’s not going to be real exciting,’ said Bucky.

‘That’s OK. We’ve had enough excitement to last a while,’ said Steve, fervently.

‘Gotta agree with you there,’ said Bucky with a nod.

**

It really was like going to sleep, like feeling tired and needing a nap. Bucky was comfortable and he shifted slightly in his cryotube. He had said his goodbyes to Steve’s friends. Wanda was pale but she smiled and wished him well. Scott shook his hand as did Clint. Sam pursed his lips and then pulled him into a hug. 

Steve walked him to Shuri’s lab, matching him step for step. ‘I have to take care of some things,’ said Steve. ‘I know you won’t be in there for long. Shuri said so. I’ll stop by as soon as I can.’

‘It’s OK. This whole mess needs to be dealt with,’ commented Bucky. ‘Scott and Sam and Clint need to get home.’

‘They do. They have children and families. Wanda wants to take some time to herself. Sam isn’t sure what he wants to do. He says he needs some time though, too. This was rough on all of them,’ said Steve.

‘At least we have some time on our side,’ said Bucky. ‘For once.’ He stopped when they reached the lab and turned to Steve.

‘What?’ asked Steve.

‘Don’t “what” me, punk,’ muttered Bucky.

‘Something on your mind?’ asked Steve.

‘It’s going to be OK. I know you’re scared, Stevie. But I’m safe, here. I chose to do this. And I’m gonna be me again… or as much me as Shuri can dig out, anyway. This goes beyond our wildest hopes. No more trigger words, pal,’ said Bucky, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve smiled, shakily at first but then it firmed up until he was smiling like the Brooklyn boy Bucky still remembered.

‘Yeah. OK, Buck,’ said Steve, shaking himself gingerly so he didn’t dislodge Bucky’s hand. 

‘So get your shit done, make sure Barton and Scott get home OK…. keep an eye on Wanda and respect whatever decision Sam makes. Don’t make me have to punch you when I wake up,’ warned Bucky.

Steve rolled his eyes but his smile was a lot more real and genuine. ‘Still giving me orders, huh?’

‘Just like old times,’ commented Bucky. He glanced at the cryotube and then purposefully walked over to it, getting inside and making himself comfortable.

Steve watched every move he made, his smile non-existent. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Bucky nodded and laid back, turning his head slightly to look at the technicians. They nodded at him and shut the tube.

The last thing Bucky remembered was Steve’s eyes widening as the tube froze and Bucky slipped into a dreamless sleep.

**

‘Bucky…. this is Shuri…. you haven’t started dreaming yet but you will and once you do, I’ll slip in with you. I’m going to work on the first word. Are you OK with me seeing that memory?’

Shuri’s voice echoed gently in Bucky’s mind. He knew her. She was the young woman who was going to help him, who had taken the time to listen to him, to explain to him what she was going to do to unmake and remake him.

Bucky scrunched up his face and nodded, twitching his nose slightly.

Shuri laughed. ‘OK, then. Let’s begin.’

Bucky wasn’t sure when the dream started but he was back in Brooklyn, back when he and Steve were growing up together. Sarah was still alive and Bucky’s ma slipped extra food into Bucky’s jacket pockets when he went to visit Steve. 

Bucky’s parents weren’t rich but his father was able to escape the worst of the Depression with his side jobs and Bucky was trained to be a runner for him. Bucky knew the back streets and alleys like the back of his hand which was extremely useful whenever he needed to hunt Steve down and rescue his sorry ass.

Like today. Steve was supposed to be sketching at the park but he wasn’t in his usual spot and Bucky had the sinking feeling that Steve was up to no good. Again.

Bucky thought for a moment and then headed down to where he knew Steve would go if something got his Irish dander up. He hoped his instincts were incorrect but when he heard the sounds of fighting in a nearby alley, he squared his shoulders and sighed heavily.

Steve was cornered by one of the Dugan boys. There were four Dugan brothers and each of them was a menace. They had no respect for manners or those they thought were fair game. Their father was a drunk who was nastier the deeper into the bottle he got and their mother was a weary woman who nonetheless had a razor sharp tongue. 

Steve had run afoul of two of them before; they weren’t shy about harassing women or teen aged girls and when Steve saw one of them shove his hands down a protesting girl’s blouse, it was more than enough incentive for him to do something about it. Before Bucky could formulate a plan, Steve had gone and punched this particular Dugan in the arm.

It ended poorly. Bucky waded in and had to not only get Steve out of trouble but had to teach this Dugan kid some manners. Steve had a split lip and a bruised face. Bucky had one hell of a shiner for weeks.

Bucky saw that this Dugan was the other one that Steve had punched. Bucky didn’t blame Steve at all for his reactions. It was just that Steve was no match for any of these rough boys and Bucky had to save his bacon every time.

Steve was already bloody and wobbling; Bucky could see Steve’s bag set carefully to the side with the flap halfways open. At least nothing had happened to it.

Steve, however, looked like a mess and Bucky cleared his throat loudly to stop the Dugan goon from punching Steve’s lights out.

‘What…. you again?’ asked the bully.

‘Me again,’ said Bucky, his tone light, keeping his eye on the situation. This particular Dugan moved a lot faster than his brothers.

‘You gotta come and save this little freak’s ass all the time. Don’t you get sick of it?’ 

Bucky rolled his shoulders to loosen them and walked down the alley, his hands up and ready. He didn’t respond but evaded the first punch and neatly plowed his fist into the other boy’s gut.

‘Go!’ Bucky hissed at Steve who still looked like he was going to fall over. ‘I’ll catch up with you later. Get outta here!’

Bucky feinted at his opponent, allowing Steve the opportunity to grab his bag and escape.

‘Ok,’ said Bucky, stepping back. ‘Now we’re gonna have a little chat.’

Bucky swung over the fire escape and slid into Steve’s room, anticipating the open window Steve would leave for him.

‘Did you wash up, punk?’ asked Bucky. He winced as he flexed his scraped knuckles.

‘Yeah,’ answered Steve. 

Bucky glanced over and was about to say something but was struck by the way the light shone in Steve’s hair, creating a golden halo of blond strands.

‘You okay, Buck?’ asked Steve, frowning as Bucky continued to stare at him.

Bucky could only nod, his eyes tracing the light that framed Steve’s slight frame from his hair down his body to his feet. It was as though he’d been hit by a train. He’d never paid close attention to Steve before. At least, not in a physical sense, as anything more than a friend. It shook him to his very marrow to look at his best friend in the whole world and find something more.

Bucky cleared his throat. ‘Yeah… yeah, I’m okay,’ he said, waving a hand in Steve’s direction.

‘You sure? You look kinda pale. Maybe you lost some blood or something… do you want my ma to take a look at you?’ asked Steve.

Bucky winced. The last thing he wanted was Sarah Roger’s sharp eyes studying him and figuring out that Bucky Barnes was gone on his best friend. That would go well.

‘No… no, I just need to sit down for a minute,’ mumbled Bucky.

‘OK, Buck… sure,’ said Steve, worried still. He hovered over Bucky until Bucky sat down on Steve’s bed.

‘Let me get you a glass of water. Just because it’ll help. I’ll get a washcloth, too,’ added Steve, darting out of the bedroom.

Bucky groaned and fell backwards onto the bed. This was what longing was, then. This feeling of wanting for something he wasn’t going to have. He dimly could feel pressure, could feel his body tense up and could hear a voice he knew and trusted talk to him softly.

Bucky listened to that voice, felt something that had tangled like barb wire around his soul loosen up and then was discarded. He felt lighter, felt like a vital piece of himself was cleaned and polished and put back into place.

Longing. There was no pressure, no pain, no urge to prime himself to do something unspeakable. Just him, thinking about Steve’s hair lit in the sun, a golden halo that was almost too much for Bucky to bear.

**

Bucky dreamed. He dreamed of sorting through cans, rejecting the ones that were rusted on the outside because he knew the inside food was rancid. Steve was having a rough winter and Bucky was desperate to make sure he could get enough for Steve to eat. Bucky wanted Steve to have as much as he needed so he didn’t get sick.

Steve was suspicious of the bounty that Buck brought home from his part time job as a stock boy at the local grocery store. 

‘Where do you get all this?’ asked Steve, picking up a can of fruit and eyeing it suspiciously.

‘They had extras to spare. Some dented ones, anyway. Can’t sell those because you know how the housewives get,’ said Bucky, shrugging.

‘Yeah. They get extra picky don’t they? Are you sure you aren’t gonna get in trouble?’ asked Steve, frowning worriedly.

‘Nah. I end up tossing stuff out anyway,’ explained Bucky. ‘Hey, we got some fruit here and there’s a can of green beans. I got some decent beef cuts from the butcher, too. I can make us something all right.’

‘You sure? I could cook,’ offered Steve.

Bucky thought of the burnt dinners Steve made in the past, the cooking attempts that ended in Bucky gamely choking down his share. ‘Uh… it’s no trouble, Stevie. I can do it.’

Steve smiled and Bucky returned it, his attention somewhat diverted by that same pressure in his head, a wrench that made him want to throw up. He heard the same gentle voice again, listened to her talk to him again. 

It was remarkable, really, how he felt so much cleaner and more himself afterwards. He could think of rusted and remember Steve, the cans of food he’d brought home, the feeling of content and happiness when Steve was able to eat his fill.

**

Bucky dreamed again, his eyes flickering back and forth under his closed lids. He remembered when it was cold so cold one winter. Steve was always on the verge of getting sicker, of his cough becoming worse, his lungs labouring to keep him alive.

Bucky was scared. He wasn’t ever scared when he went up against the bullies who thought Steve was an easy target. He wasn’t scared of hard work, eagerly taking on extra hours. He wanted all the side jobs he could hustle. If it meant a warm apartment, plenty of food, and medicine for Steve, then Bucky was all for it.

But this. This winter was even more brutal, the wind searing and the cold seeping in through every crack in the wall. Their apartment was on the top floor, a rickety little two room affair. The heat flowed upwards and theoretically, their apartment should have been warm. 

Bucky didn’t know why their apartment wasn’t keeping up with the cold. He thought they should be warm and snug, even too warm. Steve wasn’t thrilled with being too warm and he would walk around their apartment with just his trousers balanced precariously over his bony hips.

Bucky didn’t mind at all when Steve walked around without a shirt on. He still hadn’t confessed his feelings to Steve. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about his feelings, anyway. He had no idea how to tell Steve how he felt about him. He wished he could just show him but every time he reached toward Steve, he faltered.

Bucky decided actions were better than words, anyway. He made sure there was enough food to eat. He took Steve out to eat every now and then. He bought some artist supplies that made Steve’s eyes shine with happiness. It was more than enough for Bucky.

But this winter wasn’t something Bucky could control. He couldn’t make it less cold. But there had to be something he could do to make their apartment livable again, regardless of the weather.

Bucky wandered down to the basement where the furnace sat, a huge monstrosity that heated the entire building. His question was answered immediately when he saw that it was low on coal. The landlord wasn’t generous with the heat and it was only when there were too many complaints and threats to the city that the heat was grudgingly turned up.

Looks like it was time to complain again, to gather the other tenants together and harass the city office until everyone’s apartments were comfortably warm. Bucky sighed. Damn their landlord anyway. The stupid furnace should have had more than coal in it. Bucky hated having to organize everyone but he didn’t want Steve to get sick.

His eyes studied the furnace again, feeling that now familiar feeling of something gently being untangled in his head, the pain and urging siphoning away into nothingness. He only remembered the furnace burning bright red, warming his and Steve’s apartments during the coldest of times.

**  
Daybreak. Daybreak was another mission, daybreak was seeing Steve’s face in the morning sun, daybreak was laughing with his friends at the dock and later on, smiling a little with the Howling Commandos. 

Daybreak was waking up beside Steve, seeing him smile a sleepy smile at Bucky. 

Bucky loved daybreak because he had Steve all to himself. He could stare at Steve’s skin, lit pale gold in the light, could study the way the light gleamed in Steve’s hair. Daybreak was meant for Bucky alone, to absorb everything he could about Steve before Steve woke up and grumbled about the sun in his eyes.

Bucky wanted to get the courage up to tell Steve that he loved him. Not just as a brother, not just as his best friend, but something more. It was frustrating the hell out of Bucky because he never considered himself to be a coward and yet here he was, unable to tell Steve that he wanted them to be together.

It wasn’t as though Bucky was afraid Steve would be disgusted by him. Steve would hang out with a couple of friends who also were drag queens. They posed for Steve in their dresses and their jewelry. They would paint their face and put on wigs that were meticulously swept into chignons and fancy braided buns. Steve went to see them perform and came back with sketch after sketch of them on stage.

Steve would escort his friends to the bars and chat with the patrons, watching how everyone interacted with the eye of an artist. Bucky would meet him sometimes, drinking root beer, and watching Steve watch everyone else.

Gary figured it out first; he sat next to Bucky and nudged his elbow gently. ‘Hey… you ever tell Steve how you feel?’

Bucky choked on his root beer and Gary gently patted his back, gazing at him with empathy and understanding. 

‘Pal, you’re taking this the wrong way,’ protested Bucky, feeling his stomach sink.

‘Hey… don’t worry, I won’t say anything,’ murmured Gary softly, shaking his head. ‘This is between you and Steve. I ain’t gonna out nobody.’

Bucky frowned. ‘I just…’ he glanced over to where Steve was holding court with three drag queens and laughing at a joke.

‘I should tell him, shouldn’t I?’ asked Bucky.

Gary shrugged. ‘That’s up to you. He won’t hate you. He won’t be disgusted. That much I know.’

‘I just…’ Bucky looked down and then looked Gary in the eye. ‘I don’t want to mess anything up between us.’

‘I can’t tell you what will happen, Bucky. All I can say is that sometimes it’s worth the risk. You’re never gonna know unless you speak up. The love of your life could be right there,’ said Gary with an encouraging smile.

‘I know he’s the love of my life,’ said Bucky, smiling back. ‘It’s telling him that… sorta difficult.’

‘It’s worth it,’ said Gary, smiling over at his boyfriend. ‘Trust me, Bucky. It’s really worth it.’

Bucky mulled over Gary’s words the next few days and one morning, when daybreak roused Steve from sleep. Bucky watched the way his eyelashes fluttered, his eyes opening and focusing on Bucky’s face. Steve smiled slowly, his lips turning upwards and Bucky acted before he thought about it.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s, kissing him gently.

Steve stared at him and Bucky stared back, horrified, frozen by his audacity. He had leaned over Steve, bracing his arms on either side of Steve’s body. It was a delicate pose and Steve surged upwards, pulling Bucky down on top of him.

Bucky spluttered in surprise as he fell on top of Steve. He opened his mouth but Steve leaned in and kissed him, much more thoroughly than Bucky ever dreamed possible.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He returned Steve’s kiss with all the love and passion he felt, holding nothing back.

When Bucky drew back from Steve, he laughed. ‘You always gotta do it your way, huh?’

Steve rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t see you complaining much.’

‘Didn’t say it was a complaint. Just an observation like,’ returned Bucky.

‘Took you long enough. The boys were placing bets. I think Greg won,’ said Steve. He snickered at Bucky’s affronted look. ‘If you don’t think they rushed to tell me I had a chance with you and I just needed to be patient or I’d spook you, I have a bridge over there to sell you.’

Bucky groaned. ‘They didn’t say nothing to me.’

‘They wouldn’t. They told me all about your right to come out to me when you’re ready. And that I needed to be patient and not rush in like, oh what did Gary say, oh yeah. ‘Like the little shit I am.’ As if,’ sniffed Steve.

Bucky hooted delightedly. ‘They got your number, don’t they?’ He leaned in and kissed Steve again, silencing Steve’s mumbled protests.

‘Hey, Stevie… it’s daybreak and I’m kissing my best guy,’ murmured Bucky.

‘Yeah,’ said Steve, smiling again, his eyes brilliant blue in the morning sun.

Bucky felt that familiar feeling again, as of something being untangled from his mind, something foul and tainted. He was left with his memory of the sun coming up over the buildings, holding Steve in his arms.

**

It took seventeen tries before Steve and Bucky got into the rhythm of fighting without having an ugly no holds brawl afterwards. Steve was even more careless of his new body, flinging himself with abandon into every situation. Bucky would grit his teeth and watch his six, and take care of anyone sneaking up to do Steve a bad one.

The Howling Commandos seemed to disappear when Steve and Bucky faced each other, bristling with indignation. They wanted no part of this dog fight.

‘Stevie, how many times do I have to tell you to stop charging in? At least wait until I have my gun ready, for Pete’s sake!’ yelled Bucky.

Steve’s jaw shifted into that stubborn jut that Bucky knew by heart. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be the professional around here? I figured that when we engage the enemy, you’re ready to go. I shouldn’t have to wait for you to pussy foot around.’

Bucky rolled his shoulders back and balled his fists up. ‘You want some pussyfooting around, Rogers? I’ll give you some fucking pussyfooting.’ And he punched Steve in the chest without telegraphing his move.

Steve staggered back, snarled, and rushed Bucky.

Dernier watched without any expression on his face as the two of them rolled into the underbrush. ‘Those two need to just fight it out another way.’

Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘You deaf at night? They fight it out every night.’

Dum Dum sighed and adjusted his pack. ‘When they’re done messing around, we need to march another ten miles. Anyone want to remind them of that fact?’

‘Not it,’ said Falsworth and Gabe while Dernier emphatically shook his head ‘no.’ 

‘Fine. Leave it to the other minority,’ said Morita with a mournful sigh. ‘You only want me to do it because they don’t want to hurt their medic.’

Steve and Bucky look abashed when Morita waded into their midst and started yelling at them in Japanese.

‘Do they understand what he’s saying?’ asked Dum Dum, staring in wonder.

‘They know enough,’ said Gabe with a snicker. He listened and started laughing, clutching his stomach.

Steve trudged back towards them, his face in a suitably hang-dog expression. Bucky followed, looking slightly more sullen but just as embarrassed.

‘Hope those two figure it out before someone gets seriously hurt,’ commented Falsworth. 

‘Yeah. Or Morita’s gonna run out of words to cuss them out with,’ added Gabe wisely.

It was on the seventeenth mission that Steve paused, adjusted his shield, checked to see where everyone was, and then ran for it. Bucky covered his six every step of the way; not one enemy got within fifty yards of Steve.

It went like clockwork. Dernier was humming happily as he set the charges. Dum Dum and Falsworth were cooing over some weapons and a large military vehicle. Gabe was listening to his radio and giving coordinates while Morita bandaged his arm. 

Steve sat and watched as the HYDRA facility burned, Bucky standing guard with him.

‘Well, I waited. Seemed to work a little better,’ said Steve.

Bucky stared at Steve, shook his head, and lit a cigarette.

‘Not too bad,’ allowed Bucky. ‘Would have been better if we’d gotten more information for Stark.’

‘We have some HYDRA weapons,’ said Steve, motioning to the weapons that Falsworth and Dum Dum were carefully putting into the back of the vehicle they managed to save.

‘True,’ agreed Bucky. ‘Can we keep doing it this way? I had plenty of time to observe what was going on and could take care of you. This was good.’

‘And Morita didn’t have to yell at us again. Have you noticed he’s used the same swear words at least three times last time?’ asked Steve.

‘I think he’s making up new words. We don’t want to break him,’ pointed out Bucky.

They shared a conspirator’s look and giggled.

‘OK. So we good?’ asked Bucky.

Steve nodded. ‘We’re good.’

Seventeen times was better than eighteen. Seventeen was…. his again. Seventeen didn’t prime his body to do something horrific, didn’t drop his consciousness into a box and seal it shut. Seventeen was victory and contentment. Seventeen was humour and remembering his fellow soldiers. It was satisfaction for a job well done, for taking care of Steve. It belonged wholly to him.

**

‘Hey, Buck… I got a new word for you,’ said Steve with a big grin.

‘Oh, geez…’ Bucky groaned but a smile hovered on his lips. Steve had the crossword puzzle out from the paper and was tapping his pencil against his teeth.

Bucky slouched in the wooden kitchen chair, getting comfortable. He liked seeing Steve think about big ideas and then expressing them. It tickled him pink to almost literally see the gears in Steve’s head turn. 

Steve saw right through him, of course. He gave Bucky a long suffering look, an answering grin coming easily to his lips.

‘Benign,’ said Steve. ‘That’s the new word of the day.’

‘How are you going to work that into a conversation?’ asked Bucky, curious.

‘However I want,’ teased Steve.

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘I mean, you gonna go to the market and say, ‘I want some lazy milk and benign bread today’?’

‘You’re being a jerk,’ said Steve, fighting a laugh.

‘No, really, Stevie. If you’re gonna expand your vocabulary, you gotta use those big words,’ said Bucky, faux serious. 

Steve shook his head and put down the newspaper and pencil, shoving back his own chair from the table.

Bucky watched him with hooded eyes as Steve walked around the table and slid onto Bucky’s lap, facing him and arching his eyebrows.

‘You got something in mind, punk?’ asked Bucky, resting his hands on Steve’s thighs, feeling them flex beneath his fingers.

‘Sure. Maybe some benign kisses, how about that?’ asked Steve, leaning forward and gently kissing Bucky on the lips, barely touching their lips together.

Bucky hummed against Steve’s mouth, pulling Steve closer, opening his mouth and teasing Steve with his lips and tongue.

Steve moaned, opening his mouth to Bucky’s teasing, and kissing Bucky like he normally did, like he was trying to devour Bucky with every lick and nip of his sharp teeth.

Bucky slid one suspender strap and then the other off of Steve’s shoulders, deftly unbuttoning Steve’s shirt with practiced ease. 

‘What was that word last week you told me?’ asked Bucky, licking leisurely up Steve’s throat, reveling in the way Steve gripped his arms.

‘Decadence,’ whispered Steve, arching his back and rubbing his groin against Bucky’s.

‘Yeah. That’s it…. decadence. I’m gonna do some more of this and some more of…’ and Bucky pulled Steve’s shirt tail out of his trousers, running his hands up Steve’s back, leaving scratch marks on his skin.

Steve held on tight as Bucky swung him up and over to their bed, laying him down and sprawling half on and half off of him. Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes dilated when Bucky took off his shirt, throwing it onto the floor.

Bucky slid up Steve’s body, feeling Steve react to him, putting his thigh between Steve’s legs and rubbing against Steve’s erection.

‘I’m gonna take my time and decadence you all night…. you won’t be able to think about benign or nothing else,’ breathed Bucky, carefully laying on top of Steve and murmuring into his ear.

Steve only spasmed his fingers on Bucky’s waist, clutching Bucky as tight as he could. 

‘Nothing about tonight is gonna be benign, Stevie… trust me,’ added Bucky, kissing Steve, pouring as much love and want into his kisses as he could.

Benign echoed in his brain, the awful underpinnings swept away and all Bucky could remember was Steve beneath him, golden in the light by their bed. He thought of that night and of other nights where he and Steve were in a world of their making. It was a memory that was all his. There was no smell of blood or iron with this word anymore, no pain. It was him, Steve, laughter, and love. Bucky smiled in his sleep.

**

‘Y’all sing Christmas carols, right?’ asked Dum Dum.

It was cold. The snow started earlier in the day and at first, it brought everyone’s child like sides out. Gabe and Morita frisked around in the snow, laughing. Dernier muttered in French at them but held out his hand and let snow melt on his fingertips. Falsworth stuck his tongue out to catch snowflakes, much to Dum Dum’s delight. Steve and Bucky exchanged amused glances but kept an eye on the weather. They knew through bitter experience that the mild snowfall could change in a heartbeat.

But the snow kept falling and it got colder and it wasn’t much fun anymore when the temperature dropped and the wind picked up. They slogged through the deepening snow and wondered if they could find somewhere to stay for the night. They were sick of pitching tents in fields and in the woods.

‘Are you asking all of us?’ clarified Steve, looking back at Dum Dum.

‘Yeah. I mean, I’m pretty sure we all celebrate Christmas… unless any of us are Jewish or something,’ added Dum Dum.

‘I like Christmas,’ said Steve. 

‘My family makes a big deal over it,’ said Morita.

‘Same,’ agreed Falsworth. ‘Figgy pudding, wreaths, crackers… the whole thing.’

‘My grandma has the whole family over for Christmas Eve,’ put in Jones. ‘We’re talking two or three generations under one roof. And the food!’

‘The food’s the best part,’ commented Bucky. ‘Steve and I used to get roasted chestnuts on the corner.’

‘Oh, we have that, too,’ said Falsworth. ‘They’re delicious.’

‘But do you sing Christmas carols?’ asked Dum Dum.

‘Sure. That’s part of Christmas,’ answered Bucky, everyone nodding in agreement. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve been thinking of that one song…. with the five golden rings and all,’ said Dum Dum.

‘Oh, yeah. ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas,’’ said Morita. ‘That’s a long song to sing.’

‘Lots of repeating verses,’ said Falsworth. ‘Bloody hell.’

They all snickered and Dum Dum said, ‘Well, the part that I can’t remember is what nine stands for.’

‘Oh, you mean in the song,’ said Dernier, perking up.

‘Yeah. Let’s see. A partridge in a pear tree,’ began Dum Dum but Bucky shook his head. 

‘Let’s just sing it and we’ll remember it,’ Bucky suggested.

‘Just because some of us have the voice of an angel doesn’t mean the rest of us wants to get shown up, Barnes,’ grumbled Dum Dum.

‘No one is gonna care out here,’ said Jones. ‘C’mon. You think the birds are gonna grouse about a flat note or two?’

‘More like half a dozen,’ muttered Dernier, half under his breath.

Dum Dum shot him a dirty look but purposefully ignored him, turning his attention to Bucky. ‘You start, then. We’ll fill in.’

‘Fine. But Jones is singing with me. I’m not doing this alone,’ said Bucky.

Bucky and Gabe looked at each other and grinned then began singing together. 

The other men joined in after ‘three calling birds’ and dramatically drew out ‘fiiiive goooolden riiiings,’ sending them into laughing fits.

‘Stop! This isn’t helping,’ gasped Steve, another giggle escaping his lips. 

‘Let’s start with ‘five golden rings’ and let’s be serious here for a minute,’ ordered Bucky, although his lips were twitching with a smile.

They all began singing again, laughing a little and swaying back and forth. 

‘Seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, fiiiive golden rings… four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves… and a partridge in a pear tree,’ warbled Morita.

‘Eight maids a milking,’ took up Dernier and they sang together after that.

‘Nine ladies dancing!’ exclaimed Steve triumphantly while Dum Dum crowed happily.

Eventually, they reached ‘twelve drummers drumming’ and enthusiastically sang the rest of the carol.

‘Nine ladies dancing,’ repeated Dum Dum. ‘I wasn’t sure if it was nine ladies dancing or nine lords a leaping but at least now I know.’

‘That’s a lot of ladies. Nine of them. Could you imagine nine Peggy Carters?’ asked Morita.

They all contemplated this in awed silence. 

‘We’d win the war for sure really quick,’ answered Dernier with a grin and everyone noisily agreed.

‘Let’s find a place to camp, fellas,’ said Steve after another minute of boisterous chatter.

‘Wish we could find a stable to stay in,’ said Jones. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t turn an inn down but right now, a stable or barn sounds fine with me.’

‘Me, too,’ agreed Steve. ‘But since I don’t see any stables or barns or inns, we’ll have to make do with settling underneath a thick cover of trees. Lucky we have plenty of those around.’

‘Ah, yes. The grand tour of European forests,’ groused Dum Dum.

‘It’ll come to an end and then I’ll never go into another forest again for the rest of my life,’ swore Morita.

They found a clearing where the trees grew together so the ground was bare of snow. They all were happy with this discovery and pitched their tents, humming ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ under their breath.

‘Nine ladies dancing,’ sang Dum Dum happily and Bucky hid a grin from him.

‘That’s right, nine of those lovely ladies,’ commented Bucky, clapping Dum Dum on his shoulder.

Bucky sighed in his sleep, frowning slightly as he felt the delicate touch of the young woman he trusted. He wasn’t thrashing desperately, fighting the urge to destroy on orders; he breathed in and remembered that snowy day, the word nine bringing up nine Peggy Carters dancing to the Christmas carol. He sank back down into a dreamless slumber, the image fading in his mind.

**

When the Howlies began talking about what they’d do once the war was over, there was one thing they agreed upon. That after their homecoming, they would get together once a year no matter what.

‘How’s that gonna work with Morita in California, Jones in New York, the rest of in Europe, and Steve and Bucky gallivanting all over the United States?’ asked Dernier.

‘We’ll manage. That’s what letters are for. And telegrams,’ added Steve.

‘Yeah but… this is going to cost money you know,’ put in Dum Dum.

‘We’ll have a whole year to save up,’ said Bucky. ‘You telling me you’re gonna spend your monthly packet all on beer and skittles?’

‘No. But it’s not like we can just hop on a plane without it costing something,’ pointed out Dum Dum.

‘I think we should concentrate on getting out of this hell hole,’ muttered Morita. ‘We have a few more Hydra targets and we’ve yet to capture the men we need to.’

‘We will,’ reassured Steve. ‘We’re messing things up aplenty for them, anyway. We’ve gotta be a pain in someone’s backside.’

‘You’ve always been a pain in mine, Rogers so looks like nothing’s changed,’ teased Bucky.

‘Look, the important thing is we’ll figure it out. We won’t lose touch with each other. Once a Howlie, always a Howlie, am I right?’ asked Falsworth.

‘Steve’s an honourary Howlie,’ said Dum Dum. ‘We adopted him and everything.’

‘But did we have the official Howlie ceremony?’ asked Jones, trading devilish looks with Morita.

‘There’s a ceremony?’ asked Steve, his eyebrows raising towards his hairline.

‘Sure. Can’t be one of us without it,’ said Morita.

Steve cast a dubious eye on the group of men. ‘Seems to me the only ceremony was being dumped into a cell together and taking care of Bucky.’

‘That makes you one of us then, no doubt,’ said Dernier. ‘From what we’ve heard, somebody had to take care of him.’

‘Hey!’ exclaimed Bucky.

Steve grinned. ‘So I’m an official Howlie then?’

‘Nah, we gotta baptise you,’ said a solemn Jones.

‘With what?’ asked Steve. ‘We don’t have anything to baptise me with and I’m pretty sure the Army frowns on blood oaths.’

‘That’s because they’re a bunch of babies,’ said Dum Dum, shaking his head. ‘And you wonder why we Brits have to look after you damn Yanks.’

‘OK, so why don’t we baptize Steve, say the words, and make it official,’ suggested Jones.

‘What words?’ asked Dernier, his tone just as suspicious as Steve’s.

‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of it,’ said Morita.

‘OK. But maybe let’s get this over with. We have to get back to business tomorrow,’ pointed out Dernier.

‘Just need some whisky and Jones will say the words,’ said Morita. ‘Then Steve’s one of us.’

‘For better or worse,’ added Bucky, dryly.

‘I got some whisky,’ said Falsworth, taking out his flask.

‘Of course you do. Where did you get that?’ asked Morita, taking the flask from Falsworth.

‘Not gonna tell,’ said Falsworth. ‘But it’ll do.’

‘Sure will. Steve, you need to take a swallow of this and repeat after Jones,’ instructed Morita.

Steve shook his head but took the flask from Morita, taking a healthy swallow.

‘Hey now, don’t drink all of it!’ exclaimed Falsworth, snatching the flask from Steve’s hand.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Steve, his face twisting as the whisky hit him. ‘What in the seven blazes is in that?’

‘Only the good stuff,’ answered Falsworth. ‘Don’t tell me you couldn’t handle it.’

Steve just glared at Falsworth while Jones cleared his throat.

‘Repeat after me, then, Captain Rogers,’ said Jones.

‘Steve,’ corrected Steve.

‘We gotta be all official here for this,’ said Jones. ‘So Captain Rogers, do you swear to follow the Howlies through hell or high water, good times and bad, hunting Hydra and winning the war?’

‘I do so swear,’ said Steve, his mouth twitching.

‘You’re one of us, now,’ said Jones, nodding. ‘The last thing you gotta do is make sure Bucky stays on your six so you don’t get your fool head blown off. That might be more of a challenge.’  
Bucky snickered while Steve rolled his eyes. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts, Buck.’

‘Oh, I am Rogers, I am,’ returned Bucky cheerfully.

‘How’s it feel to be one of the gang?’ asked Morita.

Steve looked at the men in front of him, all of them with broad smiles on their faces. He felt a smile appear on his own and knew that he belonged to this group of men and they belonged to him. It was different because he was used to it being just him and Bucky. 

But these men took care of Bucky when Steve couldn’t and their loyalty and friendship meant more than Steve could say. They brought Steve into their group and when Steve looked over at Bucky, he knew Bucky understood the emotions that passed over Steve’s face.

‘You OK there, pal?’ asked Bucky.

‘I am…. and it feels great, Morita. Thanks, guys,’ said Steve. His smile widened into a grin and Bucky had never seen Steve look so happy and content.

‘This is quite the homecoming right here,’ said Steve. ‘No matter what happens to us, we gotta keep in touch. We gotta try.’

‘Don’t get all worried, Stevie. We’ll figure it out,’ said Bucky. ‘Welcome to the Howlies. Happy homecoming.’

Bucky’s breathing changed as his body stiffened, gearing up for orders and deprivation. Instead, he felt a cool touch on his brow, felt his breathing slow down again. His mind untangled itself, the ugly strands that wound around him like barbed wire were loosened and drifted free. Bucky sighed, remembering how happy Steve was, how happy they all were in that moment in time. It was a homecoming all by itself. Bucky forgot how good it felt to think about it, without the pain and fear. It was like coming home all over again.

**

Every time. Every time Pierce talked to Bucky, no, to the Winter Soldier, he emphasized how Bucky was the only one. The one. The one who could change history, who could make things right. 

Bucky hated that word. Hated to hear how he was the one who had to be put into cryo for his own good, had to be taken out, wiped, a tube down his nose to pump nutrients into his stomach, and drugs injected into his body to get the adrenaline rushing. It made him want to throw up, made him want to curl up and shake and shake and shake from the effects. But the batons were always there and the men were always there, and he knew better.  
So. So Bucky, so the Winter Soldier forged through the physical effects until his body stabilized itself, until he was able to dress, to choose his weapons, to do what he had been trained to do. What he had no choice but to do.

But Bucky, the part that was still Bucky, the part that still clung on like a barnacle deep inside Winter’s mind, that Bucky knew that he was more than Pierce’s one and only, the Fist of Hydra. He knew he was once someone else’s one, someone else’s only and there was no pain and no hurt. There was only…

There was only…

He couldn’t remember. He tried. Oh he tried through all the wipes, through the seizures in his brain… he tried to recall who was that man and he knew it was a man he knew he knew he… knew.

What was his name?

Bucky knew he must dream while he was in cryo. The hell of it was he didn’t remember what he dreamed. He just knew that whomever that person was, that man, he was always in his dreams. It was just that when he woke up, anything that might have lingered was always shocked out of him. A ghost in the machine that never had a chance against Hydra’s technology.

Bucky kept very quiet whenever Winter was conscious. He didn’t want to betray the body he was trapped in and he didn’t want Hydra to know he was still around, still lingering in the shadows and along the edges.

It would only bring pain and it could erase him completely. He didn’t want that and he had the gut feeling Winter didn’t want that, either. Winter didn’t want pain or torture or to be beaten or anything else. Winter wanted to be left alone, preferably, and to chase the remnants of memories Bucky inadvertently left behind.

But Pierce demanded the Winter Soldier to play a role and there was no choice in the matter. Winter did whatever he was told, without knowing the faces, without really being able to stop. Bucky couldn’t watch, couldn’t see what atrocities his body did. He fled, he burrowed deep down inside where Hydra and their electricity could never reach. Flight or fight, baby. He chose flight.

And then, DC happened. And the man on the bridge happened and Bucky risked becoming solid, risked coherency and rebellion. And the chair again. And the commands again. But. This time, when Winter Soldier was sent to do his last deed (and Bucky knew what that meant, knew that there was a bullet with his name on it and wasn’t that a goddamn sad relief in the end?), Bucky went for broke.

It didn’t take much to break the conditioning that Winter was under. The fear and the rage was always there. Steve might mistake it as directed to him specifically but that wasn’t it. Winter had more than enough fear and rage to power a thousand mega cities. It took just one super soldier to bear the brunt of it until Bucky could take control, could gaze at Steve with his own eyes, drink him in, shake Winter metaphorically. 

See? This. This is our one. Not Pierce. This man. This face that we’ve battered. This is Steve. It was like a flock of birds were released in his chest, like sun streaming on his face. It almost blinded him but it drove him to dive after Steve, to save him.

Steve was his one, no matter if it was Winter Soldier or Bucky Barnes or someone in between, it was Steve and always had been Steve.

That had never changed, that will never change. Bucky felt satisfaction flare, felt the sense of victory at long last.

Steve was his one. Pierce lied. Pierce was wrong. It was never that. It was always always Steve.

Bucky smiled happily in his sleep. Nothing remained but Steve, the last bits of Pierce’s control had been washed away. Bucky was free. Once again, he felt a hand settle gently on his brow, felt compassion and care. His body was his again, his mind was his. He was so close to the end. He could feel it. He was ready.

**

Screaming. He screamed when he fell from the freight car, he screamed when his arm tore from his body, he screamed as he hit the ground. There was no shame in it. The pain enveloped him and consumed him.

This was where his journey ended and began. This was where he ceased being Bucky Barnes and became the creature known as the Winter Soldier. The Asset. The Fist of HYDRA. All important to those who controlled him. As for Bucky, he was having enough trouble keeping what little bit of who he was tucked away.

The fall from the freight car was his fall from grace, Icarus tumbling from the sky. Bucky was blinded by fear as he was ripped away from Steve. Where was Steve? Was he safe? Did he finish what they started? Oh god, it hurts, his body hurts.

Bucky just couldn’t…. he did the best he could. He hung on, deep inside. He refused to give up despite the torture and the mind wipes and everything else. He was fractured but he was aware that part of him was what was created and the rest was all him. At least, a part of it. 

 

Look. It’s easy for people to point fingers and blame him for what he did when he was operating as the Winter Soldier. Easy for people to call him a murderer. They looked at the people he killed, the bits of history torn into shreds, the could have beens and should have beens burned into ash. 

And they had their whipping boy. Bucky wished that when he’d fallen from that damn freight train, that he’d died. Or that Steve had been able to grab him, to pull him back up to safety. He wondered what might have happened if it had been changed. What would have happened if that event had been shifted? Would it have caused a ruckus in the grand scheme of things? Would they have found someone else to do their dirty work?

Probably, most likely. Bucky was under no illusions that HYDRA would have figured something out if they hadn’t found him. It was just his bad luck they had.

Bucky remembered freight trains in New York, of course. And there were supply trains in Europe as well. He liked listening to the sound of the wheels going over the tracks. It lulled him to calmness, at least. He wasn’t afraid of trains or their sounds. He respected their size and their speed and stayed off the tracks.

It seemed almost like a lark at the time. Bucky wasn’t afraid to zipline down to where the freight train was nor was he worried. Steve and him would take care of everything. They had the chance they needed to end it. They could home again after, set up house, live their lives. Steve could maybe enroll in art school again. Bucky could find work or maybe think about going to school himself. Anything was possible now.

Bucky thought of it as just another job to do so the war could end and they all could go home. But that wasn’t how it played out. Bucky was captured and Steve chose to save the world via a suicidal run. 

It all began and ended on a freight train for them. That word, that last word sealed their fate. Bucky shivered, the cold feeling in his memories settling into his body. He would never forget the look on Steve’s face as Bucky fell. His body ceased to be his own at that point. He was ready for commands. But… no. Bucky heard a soft voice talking to him as the hurt and the misery were stripped from him, careful bit by careful bit. He wasn’t under anyone’s command but his own. 

Bucky sighed, opening his eyes to Shuri’s dark brown ones gazing at him. She smiled and he smiled back, his mind clear for the first time in…. years.

‘Welcome back,’ she said, softly. ‘How do you feel?’

‘I… I feel like me,’ replied Bucky. All the trigger words were still in his head but they no longer had the hold over him they once did. He thought of Steve, of everything that was associated with him and those words. It only brought warmth and happiness and nostalgia. Steve. The Howlies. His own journey. It was his and only his.

‘Good.’ Shuri looked away to tap on the screen in front of her. ‘I’m going to make sure everything is truly in place and then I have a place for you to live.’

Bucky raised his eyebrows. ‘A place for me?’

‘Yes. Quiet. Safe. You can rest there,’ answered Shuri.

‘All right, then. That sounds like it’ll work out just fine. Thank you,’ said Bucky, catching Shuri’s eye with his own. ‘Thank you for helping me.’

‘Well, I always wondered what it would be like to help an outsider… now I know,’ said Shuri. ‘Captain Rogers will be pleased to see you when he visits next.’

Bucky grinned. ‘He’s not gonna believe it. He can say all those words until he’s blue in the face and all it’s gonna do is have me punch him in the gut for being a pain in my, uh, side.’

Shuri giggled. ‘All right. Why don’t you try and sleep. I’m going to do that check and then slowly adjust things so you can leave the chamber.’

Bucky nodded and closed his eyes. He couldn’t wait to see Steve again. He had his life back. He was ready to start all over again.


End file.
